


a glimmer lighting up these cotton sheets

by lavab0y



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Gay, M/M, i missed this, sorry for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:46:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavab0y/pseuds/lavab0y
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Calum has a thing for Michael wearing his shirts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a glimmer lighting up these cotton sheets

**Author's Note:**

> sorry to anyone who likes my malum stuff i'm kinda in the kpop fandom now whoops so no promises of more malum shit

Calum doesn’t have many kinks. He likes to think that the ones he does have are normal: dirty talk, very light BDSM. So it’s a surprise when he discovers that he has a really huge thing for Michael wearing his clothes.

At first he thought it was just Michael in general, his undeniable lust (tainted with something more, something he doesn’t like to think about) for the pale boy messing with his brain or whatever. But he’s looked it up and everything - tons of people have it. It makes him feel a bit better to know he’s not alone, but not by much.

There’s a small part of him that suspects that Michael knows, lately he’s been stealing Calum’s shit more than usual, lounging around in his shirts, Calum’s tank tops swallowing his frame and his flannels reaching mid-thigh. He leaves a distinct Michael scent on every item of clothing, and Calum can’t bring himself to do laundry. He knows it’s creepy, knows it’s gonna blow up in his face in some way, but he can’t help it. He can at least say that he hasn’t slept with the shirts balled up under his pillow more than twice.

(Okay, three times.)

-

It comes to a head about a week later.

They’re doing their show in Tokyo, opening for 1D for the last time, and Calum is nervous as fuck. He’s gonna miss the boys, but he’s forgotten what it’s like to not tour with them and that scares him. If they don’t tour alone, people will be pegging them as “the band who rode on One Direction’s coattails” forever.

So it’s the last show with the other five boys, and they all gather together in a big huddle, putting their hands in and some of them praying (Ashton and Harry and Zayn) and some just staying silent, doing their own kind of prayer. It’s probably because of this that Calum doesn’t realize that Michael is wearing his shirt until they go on stage.

He’s halfway through his solo in End Up Here when he looks over to Michael, getting ready to make his way over; Ashton told him a joke in his in-ears that he knows Michael will like, when he sees the familiar logo and realizes that Michael is wearing his Drop Dead © shirt. He trips over a whole bar of the song, so disconcerted that Luke looks over him in surprise - Calum almost never trips up.

He manages to get through the rest of the show with minimal injury to himself and the music, but only by strictly staying to his side of the stage and never looking over at Michael, for fear of imagining something that he can’t have. Despite his best efforts, Calum’s rock hard once they leave the stage post-Luke’s speech and SLSP. He knows suspicion about his behavior during the gig will be all over Twitter and Tumblr tonight, but he can’t bring himself to care, staying silent all the way back to the hotel, declining Luke and Ashton’s offer to go out with them.

As soon as they get back, he dives right into a shower, and jacks himself off hard and fast, not teasing himself - he can’t help it. He’s got the curve of Michael’s shoulders in his shirt stuck in his mind, the fabric hanging off his frame loosely, hiding Michael’s slight curves that Calum knows are there. With a twist of his wrist and a thumb skimming over the slit he’s coming all over his hand, the water washing away any evidence as he quickly finishes up and gets out, feeling more than a little ashamed.

He walks out to the room only to see Michael sprawled out on one of the double beds, playing around on his phone (scrolling through Twitter, most likely), with his feet in the air, humming something under his breath. His hair is all flat from his shower, drying curly around his ears and the nape of his neck. He’s the perfect picture of cute, but Calum can only focus on the oversized shirt he’s wearing. _Calum’s shirt_.

It's huge on him, swallowing his torso and the tops of his thighs, leaving his pale legs visible. Calum's mouth waters, thinking of the marks he could suck into those thighs. No one else would see, but he would know they were there, that Michael was his. He suppressed a moan, but Michael looked up anyway.

"Hey, Cal," he mumbled, shifting on the bed so he was sitting up and patting the space next to him. Calum crosses the room and sat down gingerly.

"You're wearing my shirt,”

"Oh, yeah, you don't mind, do you? I could take it off-"

"NO! Uh, no, it's fine. Looks good on you," Calum mumbled the last part and Michael smiled softly. "Thanks.”

They fall into an uncomfortably heavy silence, the sound effects of whatever game Michael’s playing echoing in the hotel room.

“Mike-” Calum starts, turning to the older boy. He has to say something, the tension in the room is almost suffocating. But Michael’s already looking at him and somehow there’s a hand at the nape of his neck, fisting the short hairs there and Michael’s lips are on his. It’s dry, with too much teeth and over far too soon. “What was that?” Calum practically stutters out, his lips still buzzing pleasantly.

“I’ve seen you staring at me, Cal. Especially when I wear your shirts. You’re not as discreet as you think,” Michael smirks, his mouth widening into a smile when Calum groans. “I’m just surprised you haven’t noticed me staring back,” Michael’s voice going soft at the end, worry seeping into his tone.

Calum reaches out and tips Michael’s head up to meet his eyes, and takes the pale boy’s hands in his, effectively stopping their nervous wringing. “I’m surprised, too, considering all I do is look at you. If you haven’t guessed, I like you a lot, Mikey,”

“I guessed,” Michael smiles cheekily, pushing Calum back onto the bed. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’ve been dying to suck you off since Year 8,” he quips and shimmies down Calum’s body, pushing Calum’s boxers down with one hand and spitting into other. It takes all of Calum’s willpower not to come at the first touch of Michael’s hand around him, the slick slide almost too much to handle. Michael grins like he knows, presses open mouth kisses at the head and licks at the vein on the underside of Calum’s cock before taking it all in one go.

-

When they’re both warm and sated, Michael’s legs curled around Calum’s and his head pillowed on Calum’s chest, Calum speaks up again. “Did you know?”

“Know what?” Michael mumbles into the material of Calum’s shirt.

Calum huffs. “You know what, Michael Gordon Clifford,”

Michael lets out a giggle and shifts so he can look into Calum’s face. “Yeah, I knew, but you weren’t very subtle.”

“It’s not my fault-” Calum starts, but Michael will never know what isn’t Calum’s fault, because he kisses the younger boy and all arguments die in his throat. Michael smiles into the kiss and feels at home.

Calum’s shirt is soft.


End file.
